vatheon | A Wayward Savior

Who: Patroklos & Whomever finds him
When: Midday
Where: Plaza (Or rather wandering away from the main plaza)
Style: Prose & action both welcomed
Status: Open

[ If it hadn't been for the unusual kindness of a local woman, Patroklos would have never stirred from consciousness. The blond had to have been out for a few minutes, fifteen at max. The one who solidly nailed him in the back of his head with that book was long forgotten by him. However, the dull headache he now sports won't allow him to forget that he was bested by a mere book. Wobbly rising to his feet as he clutched his head in dire distress, Patroklos eyes widened once caught glimpse of the blue-silver blade. Laying right before his feet was none other than the coveted Soul Calibur gleaming in all its brilliance. Staring at the sword with mild wonder, Patroklos hesitated to reach for it. ]

That sword...

[ His voice was laced with agony. ]

It's more than what it seems to be.

[ Unsure what to do now, Patroklos gingerly picked up the spirit sword by its hilt and sheathed it once more. ]

...nhhm...

[ Now holding his head with both hands once the headache intensified, Patroklos slowly began to walk down the avenue aimlessly. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Gale is on his way to visit the coral in the plaza to touch the Lamufao. There are new arrivals at this time of month, of course, which is to be expected, but he isn't exactly expecting to see one looking injured. So it only takes a moment for him to step up to Patroklos.]

Do you need help?

[ It took the Athenian a moment to realize that someone was talking to him but eventually he answers. ]

Y-Yes. I don't believe this headache is going to take it's leave anytime soon...

There is a clinic that can help you. One of my comrades works there, and the others I believe are reasonably competent as well.

[That must be a really impressive headache, if it's making this man react like that, Gale reasons. He's never seen someone acting so incapacitated because of something like that.]

[ Okay, you go get bashed in the back of the head by a gigantic bible of a book and you tell me how it feels. Zexion really did a number on this brat here, then again Patroklos deserved it for earlier.

So in truth, this headache is more likened to a serious migraine or worse a mind concussion. ]

Beggars cannot be choosers, right? I'll go.

Edited 2012-06-03 00:10 (UTC)

[How is it possible to be injured so quickly? It must be a charming personality trait. Even Gale didn't manage that, and he's a relatively suspicious guy from a world where the smartest thing you can do is to shoot strangers when you see them.]

Especially when limited to Vatheon, though I believe there are several here with healing abilities.

[ That's the charm of being Patroklos apparently. He has a knack for getting himself into trouble. ]

Healing abilities...?

[ Patroklos glances over towards the weirdly dressed man with an arched brow. ]

Magic used for healing injuries or ailments. My comrade is able to use it- it is why he works at the clinic.

[Gale just looks back calmly. Nothing unusual here, in his opinion. Despite him having green hair under his hood.]

Vatheon brings many different people here, however, so the kinds of magic used often vary.

[ That sounds all fine and dandy to him. Patroklos doesn't exactly have the time to question it. After all, he's the one who's practically begging for help of any kind. ]

I see. Well, I certainly won't shun sorcery of any kind as of right now.

[In that case, continuing on toward the clinic.]

You have already been told of Vatheon, I assume.

[ Now gripping his aching head in-between his hands as they walked, Patroklos answered him quietly.]

..Yes. I've heard a little about this realm before from others.

Good.

[The rest of the way to the clinic is quiet, unless Patrklos has any questions to ask. When they get to the clinic, he gestures toward it.]

It is here. If you should need anything else, I am Gale. Ask for me or for other members of the Embryon on the SFC.

Embryon? Now what is that? A clan?

[ Despite being silent for most of the trip minus a few moans of agony, it seems that Patroklos found the will to speak again. He gave Gale a suspicious glance before gazing at the clinic before him. ]

This is not some sort of trap, now is it?

Embryon is my tribe.

I give my word that it is not. But if it would reassure you, I will enter with you.

That's the name of your tribe?

[ He blinked. ]

Oh, I see now. You're a native of this world, aren't you? That would explain your peculiar attire.

[And Gale blinks back. That's an interesting conclusion.]

Incorrect. Embryon is from a world called the Junkyard. I appeared here only a few months ago, as did my comrades. All of the members of my tribe originally from the Junkyard wear this kind of armor.

Is that so? Ah, so even you hail from one of those alternate worlds.

[ He would've prattled on hadn't the migraine gotten a tad worse now. Hesitantly choosing to trust his new companion, Patroklos cautiously walked inside of the clinic looking absolutely miserable. ]

May Hephaestus help you if this is some sort of ill-conceived plot.

[ Yes, Gale. The Athenian just threatened you. ]

Edited 2012-06-03 12:20 (UTC)

It is no plot.

[Then, after a pause, because Gale has never given up a chance to get more information about anything?]

What is Hephaestus?

A Wayward Savior

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